He couldn’t even bother to tell her he loved her back. She declared her love to him but didn’t get back the same response.
She pressed her knuckles to her mouth to keep the sobs from getting loud. She didn’t want the staff—his staff—to know that she was crying late at night. That she was alone again, they knew by now. They probably felt sorry for her, she thought, and the idea of it made her sick to her stomach. She let herself cry for a while and then she made a list of places she could volunteer. She’d stick out the six months, cash the check and try to do some good while she put in her time until then. She’d spend as little time with Brandon as possible, which wasn’t much of a challenge given his glaring absence. So she went to bed and stared at the ceiling and tormented herself with every single pathetic thing she’d said and done to reassure him that she loved him and wanted him and would never leave him. The notes, the emails, the text messages, the declarations and the sexual favors. That collection of devotionals far exceeded the #toobusy and #bootycall archives, regrettably.
She dialed Britt’s number, knowing that her friend would pick up the phone no matter what time it was in LA.
“What’s up?” Britt asked.
“He didn’t know you were in California,” Marj hiccupped.
“What?”
“Brandon. It’s how I figured it all out. He remembered your name, but he didn’t remember that you are in LA or that he never even met you. He doesn’t listen, doesn’t pay any attention to me. He looks up shit from my Pinterest boards to prove his devotion, but he doesn’t care about me. Not one bit!” Marj said venomously.
“Do you really think that’s true? Just because he can’t remember where I live? Because, for one thing, Jack and I move around so much with the tour that even I can’t remember where we live sometimes. And the truth is you’re underestimating how lovable you are. Totally sexy, smart, funny—hell, I wrote your Tinder profile, you know how fabulous I think you are!”
“You’re very sweet, always have been. But I think it’s time we explored the possibility that you just may be the love of my life. Because it’s not rich boy. It turns out that he just wanted the inheritance. I mean, have you SEEN the shit they’re saying about me online?”
“Honey, I haven’t been checking your…I don’t know…approval rating. So the answer is no, I don’t know what they’re saying or who THEY even are.”
“People who commented on the magazine article.”
“The Wicked Witch is trying to get to you. I’m sure she paid them to post stuff. She wants you to run, to get the hell outta of Dodge.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“Hon, you looked fabulous. And I love that couch. I mean, I love midcentury modern in general, obviously. I mean, who doesn’t?” Britt said.
Marj bit back a laugh, recalling bitterly the way she and Brandon had joked around about that couch and about the design era and all. Even that happy memory was soiled by the knowledge that he only wanted a name-only spouse by which to acquire his dad’s property. Not a real partner and companion and lover. Just a rent-a-wife.
“And to think he got all high and mighty when I suggested a gigolo for Lena!” Marj groused.
“What?”
“His stepmother. The Wicked Queen. We could hire somebody to distract her.”
Britt laughed.
“All I’m saying is that he married me to get the company, and then he acted like he was so above-the-fray when I suggested that Lena needed a man. He was morally offended, even though he was playing me all along just to get my cooperation. I told him I loved him! Can you believe I did that? I’m so fucking stupid. I can’t believe I survived to adulthood. Britt, I’m going to stay with him for the six months, because I think I should have to honor that commitment even though he took me in with empty promises and all. I promised to help him before I wanted to be married to him for real, so don’t you think I owe him that?”
“Honey, you don’t owe him anything, and if you really think he played you all this time, I’m for outing him. Expose him on national TV, or international TV if you can! Let everyone know what a dick he is, what a lowdown, greedy, exploitive—”
“You are the worst at insulting people, Britt, do you know that? You’re too sweet. You actually said ‘lowdown greedy…’ and I thought you were going to finish it with cowpoke.”
“I’m glad my anger amuses you. The point is I’d be happy to beat the crap out of that cowpoke if he ever makes it out this way because he obviously doesn’t deserve you. He deserves a bad rash and some diarrhea and a kick in the nuts. Maybe Lena is right about him.”